


Coming Clean

by CadersSparklet, SineadRivka



Series: Nova Initia: Cracks in the Shell [6]
Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World (2015), Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence Mentioned, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadersSparklet/pseuds/CadersSparklet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: Jazz and Prowl come clean about the Cybertronian presence on Isla Nublar to Claire and Owen. Emotions run high.





	Coming Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Things We Don't Tell Humans](https://archiveofourown.org/works/431107) by [SineadRivka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka). 



> **_Theme Songs for this Chapter_ :**  
> CadersSparklet: [2 Heads by Coleman Hell](https://youtu.be/gAeWAwdZf9I)  
> SineadRivka: [All the Myths are True by Abney Park](https://youtu.be/uC5llaxoCRM)
> 
> Well, this took forever and a day, and it's mostly my (SineadRivka's) fault. It's been a rough few years and I haven't really kept up on the editing/proofing/prepping for upload to AO3. BUT, that all said, we're both going to be doing a better job on getting you some reading material, and shouldn't leave you hanging for ... uh ... two years ... um ... again ...
> 
> Really sorry about that. Have a chapter. We have at least four more in the pipeline.

Jazz had followed Owen to the bungalow after Delta and the other two raptors were settled for the night. They weren't more than two hundred feet west of the paddock, but it felt like a completely different island. He sat his holoform on his hood, just enjoying the view of the lake. No wonder Hound loved being assigned to Owen as the old Jurassic Park Jeep.

Another car pulled up behind him, and he got a contented ping from Soundwave. Turning, he smiled at the small SUV and the human riding inside. Sliding down to walk over, he opened her door for her. "Claire, good to see you. Is Picard far behind?"

Claire didn't know if she really wanted to strangle Owen yet. For a guy who liked to tease her about _control_ and _printing an itinerary for a first date_ he sure as hell picked a great time to spring a double date on her. She'd sat in her car for a few moments, staring at the simple text message from Owen. They were having a double date with her boss . . . and his . . . spouse? Partner? The head of security for the park. Tonight. 

Mr. Azzara looked relaxed against a rather nice looking vehicle as she pulled up to their bunaglow. Great. A double date . . . at their place. Not even a restaurant. She managed to smile, it was reflex from her job, as he opened the door for her. 

"Ah, Mr. Azzara. What a pleasant surprise. When Owen texted I thought maybe we were meeting somewhere . . . else?" But her eyes said she knew it was happening here. "Oh. Mr. Rowling wasn't . . . I didn't see him when I left. He could be on his way though." Her eyes went to the bungalow where Owen probably was. "Did he just leave you out here? Would you like something to drink?" No plan. There was nothing here. No preparations. She was going to hurt him when he came back. 

But her face gave nothing away. 

Jan shook his head. "Naw, he offered for me to come in, but seein' that the bathroom door needed a replacement, I figured that it would be better ta enjoy th' landscape." He gave Prowl a ping, and got an automatic response. Pulling his phone out, he said, "Owen said you might be upset about having something sprung on you. An' I have a feeling that my precious hubby is still settled in his office. 'Scuse." He hit the autodial and held the phone up to his ear. "Heeey, Prowler."

"Mm?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm . . . on my way."

"Yeah, how close to the office door are you?" Jan turned away from Claire with an apologetic look. "You said you'd be picking up dinner. Did you get the orders?"

"I . . . Dammit. I'm sorry. Yeah. I'll . . . um."

"I'll order. Text me what you want. Just get ready to pick them up. Do I gotta babysit your fine ass?"

Prowl's response actually had him blush to the roots of his hair and he grinned wildly, voice lowering even further into a husky growl. "Oh, yes, _please_. Baby, don't make me whine and beg, or I'll start making the company uncomfortable . . ."

Soundwave sent him an entire MP3 of disgusted noises. Hound was simply laughing at the normal banter between Optimus' inner cadre.

Claire rubbed at her neck, slightly put-off by the direction of the conversation. But how many times had Owen called her to remind her to eat? She glanced again at the bungalow door and wished Owen would make an entrance. She could excuse herself, but she'd feel rude for leaving him out here alone. Unlike Owen, who just did as he pleased. 

"I'm going to go . . . uh . . . check on Owen," she muttered quickly before walking off at a clipped pace, almost like she couldn't get away fast enough. Sure enough, Owen was in the shower. Not a bad sight after a long day at work. 

"Babe! Hey!" He greeted when she peeked in at him. Her hands were on her hips. "Wanna joooooiiiiiiin me?"

"You are aware that the head of security is outside?"

"Yeah."

"And that my boss is on his way?"

"Yeeeah"

"What part of _don't spring things on me_ was difficult?"

"But you like when I-" She cut him off. 

"Owen. Be serious. Why are we having a double date? We don't even go on dates!"

"Well . . . we would . . . if I wasn't distracted by how great in bed you are." 

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Owen. We are supposed to plan things together. That includes meeting up with people. Especially my boss."

"What's wrong with your boss?"

"He's my boss."

" . . . so?"

"Owen."

"You're dating me. Isn't like we're having a foursome."

"God,” she shook her head, hands coming up to her face. “You're unbelievable."

"I do try."

"He's outside waiting."

"You could still join me~" He pouted when she moved to leave. "Fine. But offer still stands. I'd get you pretty clean."

"Un-be-livable!" She grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and stopped in front of the door leading out to collect herself. Double date. Got this. How hard could it be? She walked out and offered the bottle to Jan. "He'll be a moment."

Jan took it with a smile. "I'm sorry for the sudden plans." She was going to kill them all when she found out that three mechs heard that conversation. At least they had a healthy relationship. "What would you like Picard to pick up for dinner?"

_:You don't have to hear them,:_ Soundwave griped.

_:They're not bad. At least they're enjoying themselves. What's that song? "You can be as loud as the hell you want during sex?" Prowl and Jazz adhere to that. Heartily.:_

_:Neither of ya've had the pleasure of walking by Optimus and Elita's office when they get goin'. An' that ain't a recent thing, neither. But humans can be loud. An' inventive.:_

Claire was quiet before speaking up. "Whatever you two were planning is fine. Owen eats anything and I'm sure there'll be something for me." Her smile faltered though. "Look. I'm not really good at the whole . . . date-thing. So I don't really know what to do in this situation. If Owen said I'd be upset then you two must be on good terms . . . It's a control thing. I'm working on it." She said it matter of factly, like it was common knowledge. It probably was. Previous coworkers referred to her as uptight and rigid. She was still that way because business and work came first. Everything else was secondary and excusable. She kept her focus on Jan as she spoke.

Jan's smile was kind as he sipped at some of the water. The appearance nanites passed it down to the inner power-plant nanites, which began breaking it down into the basic elements. Hydrogen was used for power, and oxygen released back into the air. "Listen, I get ya. I'm like Owen, and if ya haven't noticed, Picard's like you. He takes his work very seriously an' tends ta get lost in a routine only he knows 'bout. He had to; lives depended on how well he could do his job. Just like you. We've just had more time to work out gettin' him ta balance out his work-life agendas." He shrugged. "An' since we're intruding, what's ya favorite comfort food on the island? Anything at all. We'll work around what you want. We sure as hell ain't picky, and after a day with the raptors, I could eat m' own tires."

_:Ew, Jazz.:_

_:Shutcha face, Hound.:_

Soundwave interrupted. _:Should Dinobot be here for this?:_

Jazz considered, then sighed over the coms. _:No. He's tracked right now. We'll let them know that we have a fifth on the island that was meant to help study the health of the animals, but had to be inducted as one of the animals. Owen's smart; he'll know it's our boy. If he demands that Dinobot come, well, the kid knows how to hack human locks and get hisself free.:_

Claire's eyes widened a fraction but her smile stayed in place. She'd forgotten how detail-oriented her boss could be. It was probably why they worked so well together. She could talk straight business and numbers and he understood without her having to break it down. It was nice. Jan made her feel relaxed because he didn't seem to be expecting anything from her. Maybe this was going to be a calm evening. 

"Oh well . . . in that case. I'd like the veggie stir-fry from that new Asian place that we recently contracted," she commented. She couldn't remember the name but she remembered it tasted wonderful. Owen had dropped it off for her when he'd come in to talk with someone about a tourist coming too close to the raptor paddock. Barry had dealt with it but it'd gotten loud and almost out of hand until Owen threatened to show the guy just _why_ the raptor enclosure was off-limits. Needless to say . . . it'd been a long evening. 

She realized she'd gone silent in thought and glanced to the door of the Bungalow. On cue, Owen kicked the door open singing loudly. He looked freshly showered, hair still glistening as he wore worn jeans and a simple white undershirt with buttons.

_"If ya like pina coladas~"_ He was horribly off-key but it was intentional as he carried a case of beer and a pack of coke. He used his foot to push the door closed and gave them an odd look. "I don't know why you're all standing there. I have a perfectly adequate table and an assortment of chairs over here . . . " He jerked his thumb over to a picnic table. "Okay, so technically the chairs are attached but it's made up of different woods . . . That makes it assorted."

"Owen." 

"Yes babe?" He even managed to look innocent. 

" . . . " She let out a sigh but didn't continue. Instead she turned to Jan. "Mr. Azzara, if you'd like to come sit until Mr. Roland-" she started but was cut off by a long groan. 

"God, babe. Seriously. Last names? This isn't a business meeting . . . or you'd be calling me Mr. Grady . . . and then you sound like a teacher." He tacked on with a flirtatious smile. "But I'd be your number one student." She took a sip of her water, deciding he'd probably get worse the longer the night progressed. There was no filter on him and as much as she didn't want that impression for her boss . . . She loved Owen for it. 

Laughing, Jan returned the conversation back to him and his husband. "Please, we're off the clock. I'm Jan, and the hubby is Picard. So. Veggie stir-fry from the Asia Fusion place for Claire, and I'm going to try the beef-soba stir fry. Owen? What's your comfort food here? Aside from the lovely lady who deigns you worthy to grace you with her mighty and glorious presence?"

"Heeeeey," Owen protested as Claire hid a smile behind her hand," That makes it sound like I'm not . . ." He shook his head as Claire's eyebrows rose in question. "Oh shush." He was pouting as he started rearranging the drinks. "Comfort food . . . sounds like we're expecting something life-changing." He shot Jan a sharp look that Claire didn't miss. Her eyes narrowed, going from him to Jan but she didn't voice the question. "Claire's having stir-fry. Veggie, again. We're having steak tomorrow, I'm cooking. Jan, I eat anything. Buuuuuut, I suppose I'll take that steak mix with them noodle things from the Asian place."

"Lo-mein?" She offered. 

"That sounds terrible."

"No, that's what-” Claire shook her head because Owen was smirking, obviously just messing with her. "You deserve a salad." He made a face. "Loaded with plenty of vegetables and mushrooms. We're having salad night in the future." 

Jan pulled his phone out, sent the message, and grinned. "That asshole. He's already there. So he'll be here in about . . . twenty minutes." Settling down sideways on the bench, eyes still glazing over at the sight of the lake, Jan smiled and sipped at his water again. "An' ya just got Delta back, Owen. Don't tell me that ya wouldn't wanted some comfort food after today."

"Delta's comfort enough." It was assured and the hard set of his posture said as much. He moved, opening an arm to get Claire to sit by him. She didn't and remained standing. "Aw, babe. Not the cold shoulder. I'm freezing over here."

"Owen, it's Central America. If you're cold, you're sick." 

"Yeah, I'm sick and you're the cure." It was delivered deadpanned and she finally sat down perched on the edge of the bench away from him. He reached over, wrapping an arm around her and pulled her against him. "You know males like to establish claim over their females to other males? Its behavioral."

"Mm-hmm" But it was skeptical. "Sure you just aren't coping for a feel." She murmured quietly behind her raised water bottle. 

"Claire!" He pretended to be shocked. "We're among company." 

"Said company might be getting copped soon enough, the way that last text message went." Jan reached over and pulled a beer out, cracking it and raising it to the power couple. "But if you'd like some privacy, I can skip stones until Picard makes it here." He grinned and enjoyed the banter.

Owen instantly turned to Claire with that borderline pleading look, it was more teasing though. 

"Absolutely not. I don't even hang out with people that much and your behavior is out of line," she snarked, but there was no bite to her tone. 

"Awwwww, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Died the moment the Indominus got loose." It was colder than she intended and Owen froze, playfulness gone and replaced by cautious concern. 

"Babe...that's not funny." She gave a half shrug and sipped her water, studiously ignoring meeting his gaze. "Babe . . . Claire." Eyes back to him. "Do not joke about that. You're worrying me here."

"You can't freak out every time I say her name." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Consider it recovery. Have you even said her name?"

"She's dead." His eyes were cold and he cracked open a beer. 

"That's the point . . ." She glanced at Jan suddenly apologetic. "We're awful company, aren't we?" 

"Hey, he should be honored to sit with you."

Jan turned to face the couple. "Have either of you been to therapy about the Indominus?" All joking was gone, and he was very earnestly serious. "I . . . look, I hinted to Owen that I been through some really screwed-up shit and have survived it. That's one of the things I wanted to address with ya two. I wouldn't be here, be _sane_ , if it wasn't for some damn fine psychologists that I _still_ sit down and chat with. I honest to God _am_ honored to be able to work with the both of ya. But . . . _have_ ya talked with anyone? Even any survivors of the other incidents here or on Sorna?"

"I've spoken with Grant." Owen finally said after a tense silence. Claire looked surprised. 

"As in Doctor Alan Grant?" She asked, frowning. "We couldn't get him to come here to consult the park."

"He's never set foot here, trust me. Too many bad memories but we go back. Besides, who else would I turn too when I needed help understanding something new with the pack?" Owen questioned and then gave her a look. She glanced away, then at Jan. 

"I . . . talk to Owen," she answered.

"I've recommended others but she seems content to use me as a soundboard. Grant doesn't know all the details . . . but they've been through some things. He knows the cover up is complete bull. InGen played God one too many times . . . again." He ended that in a dark growl before taking a sip. "Claire would probably do well speaking with someone but . . . she's tough." 

"Ya don't say," the dark-skinned man replied, sipping at his beer. "Leading the Rex out of Paddock Nine? In heels? Towards loose raptors and a monster? And this is after being attacked by one of the raptors while on the move back to Main Street! Listen, I got several ladies on my speed-dial, each with more balls than most men I know. If you want someone to talk to, I can get you their profiles. Not many are listed as therapists, but they sure as hell know how to listen an' empathize with living through traumatic experiences." He raised his free hand into a shrug.

"We'll consider it." Owen spoke up and Claire was grateful. Being reminded how close to death she'd been was never pleasant. Owen's arm tightened around her as if sensing it and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Enough gloom and doom of past days . . . What's this _thing_ we're going to find out? We waiting for Picard or after dinner or what?"

"What thing?" Claire asked, twisting to look at him. Owen remained looking at Jan. 

"The raptors treat Jan differently." He stated.

"So?" Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, head tilting to the side as she looked from Owen to Jan and back.

"Babe. You'd have to be there . . . He looks normal but he's definitely hiding something and they're going to let us know tonight." Then he looked at her. "That's all I've got. Other than Jan saying something about National Security."

"And you failed to mention this earlier because . . . ?"

"You love surprises?" 

"Owen. No. I hate surprises. They're unscheduled and you just can't spring them on busy people."

"Well~ Good thing you aren't busy." He replied smoothly, taking a sip and glancing back at Jan. 

He thumbed over his shoulder at the larger black SUV that pulled up and parked next to his smaller silver one. "Food hits the table, we talk."

Picard swung out of the vehicle with the take-out bag in one hand. With swift steps, he settled it beside the beer and leaned down to press his forehead to Jan's. "I'm sorry."

"Mm. I'll forgive you. Sit?"

Wordlessly, Picard did so, moving to start passing out the boxes of food with the same movement. After a moment, he looked to Jan. "I have a feeling that you'll know what to say better than I will."

"Right. Stop me if I start wandering?"

"Or dipping into secrecy pacts."

"That, too. Thanks, hun." Jan looked back at the pair opposite them and sighed. "Okay. Let's start with . . . hm." He looked up at the sky, thinking hard. "What do you know about the Autobot Consulate and community in Washington D.C.?"

"Not too much," Claire stated and continued," I was a bit preoccupied with running an amusement park full of dinosaurs." Owen had started to frown though, looking thoughtful. 

"Short story? Aliens came and fought each other on our planet, one side won and our government is apparently working with them. I wasn't involved but I have a feeling you were in the middle of it all." Owen took a sip of his beer. Eyes stared sharply, tracking for something eerily like the raptors he worked with. "Likewise, I had raptors to handle."

Jan blushed and looked to Picard. The man wasn't even looking at him, instead poking angrily at his lo mein. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I was. M'man's still mad as hell at me about all that, too." He cleared his throat and sipped at his beer. "Well, after the Indominus problem, they wanted to have some of their folks on the island ta help things from becoming that awful again, and to protect as many people as possible."

"We volunteered," Picard said simply, looking up at Claire. "Us, and three others."

Owen didn't move for a moment, eyes on Jan and then he straightened. He set the beer down and kept his arm firmly around Claire. Picard had all but just said it. Claire blinked, thinking it was an odd way to put that. 

"Wait . . . so you're referring to the Autobot Consulate and Community...you're members of that." She pulled her gaze from Picard to look at Owen who gave a small shrug. That got a nervous laugh. "No. You look human . . . I thought the aliens were rumored to be massive . . . " She glanced back at Picard. "You're from the human side?"

Picard smiled, the expression a little sad. "It's a really fragging good upgrade . . . but we're not human. We look, we can act, we can eat and drink--"

"I like the drinking."

"Jazz."

"What? Booze is fun."

Rolling his eyes, Picard chuckled. "Jan -- Jazz -- is the second-best at this, and I use a combination of his and one other Autobot's programs and algorithms to look and act like I was human while looking like _this_. But this isn't me. Not the true me."

Jazz pointed over at the parked SUVs. "That's us."

"Right." Owen said and sounded curious despite his posture. He'd roll with whatever ended up happening but his attention was divided between the revelation and Claire. She looked to be in disbelief and shook her head firmly.

"If this is a joke . . . it's in poor taste." She finally said. She'd adopted a no nonsense posture and Owen knew they were about to be in for a real shock. 

"You know . . . hearing it is one thing . . . actually seeing it . . . well you know the saying 'seeing is believing'?" Owen asked, eyes going to the cars. Jan's predicament with the raptors was starting to make sense.

Jan sighed, standing up from the table and backing his true form up slowly to face them. He shrugged with a wry expression and let his holoform begin to "mist out," losing first the colors, then the shape, and then the cloud of nanites fled back towards their host, who pulled forward just enough to not knock over any trees. His hood split down the middle, which sent a spiderweb effect along the other large pieces of metal. Shifting parts revealed arms, a foot, then both legs and torso. Jazz finished the transformation while crouching, taking a moment before standing up slowly. His voice was the same, only holding a little more depth, a strange resonance that was the final key to the "not human" puzzle.

"So. Seein' _is_ belivin'. But is seein' and knowin' what we are enough to still trust us to help you keep this dream, this park, alive and running smoothly?" He rested hands on hips, the motion echoing movements that Jan, the human, would have made.

Claire's face went stock-white and her lips parted as if she were going to say something but couldn't find the words. This. Wasn't. Happening. She'd been skeptical about the news coverage and reports. Aliens? "No. Just. No." She was unaware of standing and moving back until Owen was in front of her. It wasn't an answer to his question. It was a response to his appearance. 

"Babe, eyes on me. You need to breath." 

"Owen - that's," and she gestured at Jazz's newly revealed form. "That's insane."

"That's what they said when InGen made dinosaurs."

"From DNA, different. This is something entirely different and irrelevant." Her voice had taken on a higher pitch and her breathing was shallow. "How are you calm?"

"Because you require me to be." Her eyes snapped to his. 

"So if I was calm?"

"I'd be asking a million more questions about _how_ . . . also if I could touch." Owen said with a slight smirk. "I'd wanna observe. I'ma behaviorist. It's what I do."

Picard snorted and grinned broadly. "Jazz is a lot more about touch than I am."

"You roll over and beg for our human folks to give you a good waxing, don't lie," Jazz said, stretching before settling down again where he stood. He didn't want to upset Claire any further than she already was. "Claire, hun, insane is how this world has been working since the dawn of time. Your planet, your societies, all of it. InGen made dinosaur hybrids, and that was insane. Cybertronians, that's us as a whole, have been interested in your planet since before the Pyramids. Not everyone had an interest that was healthy and for the good of mankind, but whatevs." He paused, then looked to Owen, visor flashing once before lifting to show his optics. "Do you want to see Prowl? Or know where the other three of our team are?"

"The sorna raptor is one of your guys," Owen stated, absolutely certain about it. Claire was trembling and he pulled her against him. Giant alien robot turns out to be your boss, that was cool in Owen's books. "But I'm curious who the other two are. You two are in positions of power. Are the others? And-" he was getting ahead of himself and looked sheepish now. "Right, one thing at a time." He tugged Claire along, moving her back to the table and he was concerned with how easily she complied to sitting back down. She kept her face pressed against him, not even looking at the others. 

" . . . no." She said softly and Owen nudged her. 

"Come on babe. You'll wanna see this." He grabbed a coke and opened it, taking a sip before passing it to her. "You just sit here and drink this. I'm getting closer." Her hands tightened around him before she let go and took the drink. Owen was gone from the table, no fear as he moved closer to Jazz's form and Prowl's car. "Don't squish me . . . " He warned suddenly but looked entertained. 

" . . . Why us?" Claire spoke up, not looking at Picard but at the soft drink she clutched like a life-line. "Why reveal yourself to us?"

Jazz grinned, staying very still for Owen. "Trust me, that's coding that runs deep. Sparklings, our children, they are tiny little buggers. They and the human kiddos make it a game of who can climb the highest." He smiled. "We wanted to bring our own little guy, but we had to make sure that things would be safe for him. And you're right. The Sorna raptor is a couple generations younger than us, and goes by the uninspiring name of Dinobot."

"I'll tell him you said that," Picard said over his shoulder, not entirely sure how to answer Claire’s question.

"Do it. He thinks he can take me. I'll show him why he's wrong."

"You're still recovering."

"So? I can still tie a knot in his tail."

The Park Coordinator smiled. It would be nice to have Hudson around again to play with and to teach. Suddenly, the answer was clear. "Why you two? Because both you and Owen are sharper than most humans. You made sure that more people would survive. And you are capable of understanding that our charade as humans is not meant to injure or hurt anyone; it's meant to help rebuild and support an infrastructure that will outlast our involvement. We want to give Jurassic World all the tools and connections it needs to last to future generations." He spun his fork around his noodles and bit into them, learning the taste as a human would, then all the way down to the basic chemical makeup. He liked it. "And to put a personal spin on it, Jazz and I like you two, and want to see you both succeed. We know we can trust you both."

"Sounds fair," Owen commented circling Jazz. "So," hands on hips," you have young. You can . . . reproduce. Are you males or is sex not gender specific? Is it even _sex_ like humans or do you guys just kinda build each other . . ." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then looked at Prowl's car. "Dude, hurry up already. I've gotta compare."

Snickering, Jazz waved his hand. "Tell ya what. Let's keep it simple right now. Reproduction is one of those things that we'll get into later, since it's a messy bit of medical talk that I don't feel like bothering our doc about. For us, Prowler and I adopted a kiddo named Hudson. Sweetest little mechling. We have genders based upon our Spark-type, our soul, but our build doesn't have any sexual organs to define female or male in the way you know of it. And we have three genders based off our Sparks, not two." He stretched again, arms over his head and twisting side to side a little, showing off blatant welds and repaired damage. "You've identified three of us. So. Where are the other two? Prowl will shift when he's ready to."

"Hudson, sounds cute." Owen said and shook his head. "Dude, I rode inside of you....with raptors...That has to feel weird to you. We're like kittens clamoring about you." Then he got serious, eyes narrowing. "Well . . . one's a raptor . . . you two are cars. Its a safe bet to believe they'd have vehicle modes similar to your own . . ." His eyes drifted to the only other vehicles present beside his bike. Which was currently in a state of disrepair- he was trying to fix something with the exhaust and hadn't had time to completely put it back together.

"Please don't be." Claire whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. 

"If I wanted to keep an eye on us...I'd have them be the company cars provided to us. Although I technically claimed that specific jeep because they weren't actually supposed to let me have it. But it rides smoothly," Owen stated and turned back to Jazz. "What are their names?" 

Claire let go of her drink, placing hands on her face. "This is just a never ending dream . . . I'm half-expecting Zara to show up." She said it quietly so Owen wouldn't hear her.

Picard did, though, but he didn't comment. He did, however, nudge her food closer to her and spoke at a volume that Owen wouldn't pick up on while Jazz kept him entertained. "Please eat something. You barely even touched your lunch today."

Standing, Jazz strode over and shoved at the Jeep, who honked his horn at the intrusion and rolled a foot away from one of his closest friends. "This is Hound, our xenobiological expert, best scout and tracker, and the only one who managed to sneak onto the island. He's been here, what, four years?"

"About that," Hound replied. With a rattle, Hound transformed into a mech similar to Jazz's height. He smiled and held his hand out to Owen. "Glad to finally meet you face to face. It's amazing to watch you with the raptors. I'm looking forward to seeing your pack expanded again."

Claire gave Prowl a tight-lipped smile, deciding she should eat. She speared a piece of broccoli to chew on, eyes on her food taking that as an excuse not to talk. 

Owen was smiling at his newly revealed jeep, moving forward to inspect the offered joint. "Alright. That's cool." He tipped his head. "Not sure if pack will be expanded. Blue won't accept any Sorna raptors because they wouldn't be imprinted on me. We'd have to start completely over . . . Also . . . what do you mean you've been here _four_ years? How'd you sneak on?"

He grinned. "I hid in the cargo hold of a supply ship. Waited until about two in the morning, when the night crew were taking their break, snuck out and carefully got around to the restricted area and the original Jurassic Park visitor's center. I have some scans and some maps of the restricted area, but not enough."

Picard, Prowl, smiled back and turned halfway to watch the interaction of Owen with Hound. "Owen is very similar to Jazz; both take chaos in stride."

"It's because of the raptors," Claire replied, fork pausing as she wiggled it through the stir-fry. "I don't think he even realizes the extent he'e changed since working with them." Her eyes moved up to look over at where Owen was poking at part of Hound's armor. "It's in our files. All members who work here undergo psychological testing to make sure the stress of working with these creatures isn't _too much_."

"Okay okay, so why vehicles? I mean, cars are cool and all but what about flying? Can you even fly? That's got to be part of it. I mean, you guys fought each other . . . " He moved closer to Jazz. "You've got plenty of leftover indicators that something bad must've happened . . . Get too cocky?" Owen still sounded amused and he had so much he wanted to say and ask. How did they function? How old were they? Where was their home world? Why Earth? It was endless.

Jazz's face lifted in a humorless smile. "No. I wasn't too cocky. I was buying time to keep our leader and a civilian from being killed or captured. I was . . . expendable."

Prowl burst into a transformation, losing his holoform in the process. He stormed over to his mate and shoved him with a foot, careful not to leave any damage to Jazz or to the landscape. He stood over his Prime, vibrating with a growl. "You are _not_."

"I _was_ at Mission City."

"You slagging well were _not_ expendable. Do _not_ ever think that you are."

Hound took a step back, gesturing for Owen to do the same. Soundwave took this moment to transform slowly, carefully. He didn't want to tip the balance the wrong way. His voice moved softly, using soothing harmonics. "Lord Protector Prowl, we understand that you do not need any reminding that you have lost the love of your life, and regained him only through a miracle. But Jazz is here, and he has learned." He drew himself up, grateful for his basic recent upgrade that gave him more height and a few more systems to support symbionts. "Take a walk."

"You dare order--"

"Take. A slagging. Walk." Soundwave pointed away from the bungalow. "Go around the lake. Twice. Slowly. Both of you. Now. Or I will tell Optimus and Megatron."

Jazz got to his feet and nodded. Every so often, Prowl would be beset by episodes of PTSD. Most times, they could catch it in time and work with him. Today wasn't one of those times. "He's right. C'mon, Prowler. Walk with me."

It took a few more seconds of cajoling before they were beyond the first line of trees, moving slowly, hardly a footprint left behind. Hound blew all the air out of his vents in an explosive sigh. "Been a long time since I've seen Prowl snap, Soundwave. How long has that been building, you think?"

"Too long. It's been over a year since his last episode." Turning to Claire, he turned his hands outwards helplessly. "We suffer the same nightmares that your kind do. Owen, Claire: are you alright?"

Owen had backed up immediately upon seeing Prowl launch into motion. Military training. He slowly moved back more as he watched in fascination as Claire's vehicle turned into yet another one. Yeah. This was definitely awesome. 

"Yeah . . . I'm cool. Babe?" He asked turning to look at her. Any other time he'd of laughed at that comical mouth agape moment before she recovered. 

"Ah . . . yes . . . I'm . . . okay," she said, going back to picking at her meal. She hadn't been expecting any of that. Sure, she'd seen bits of it in the conversation but this hinted at something much more. She looked back up, noting that Owen was still watching her. "Owen, I'm not one of your raptors. You aren't going to figure me out just by staring. Come here and eat before your food gets cold." Eating was normal. A normal process. 

" . . . babe . . . I love you."

"I know." He chuckled before moving the rest of the way back. 

"You two don't mind, right? I mean . . . we could . . . share . . . but I'm guessing you don't eat human food like that," he said and made a gesture at them. "So we'll eat, and you'll talk." He slide into a spot next to Claire and opened his meal. "Look, they gave me worms."

Claire looked startled but it turned to annoyance when she noticed he was playing with the noodles. 

"It's like I'm dating a man's body with the mental capacity of a toddler sometimes." She muttered, taking a sip of water. 

" . . . meh . . . " Then Owen turned his attention to the Autobots. "I understand where Jazz is coming from. On the field. Especially at war . . . you _are_ expendable. If it's a mission of crucial completion, all that matters is the outcome. Not if you make it." He took a large bite of food before glancing at Claire. He swallowed. "What? It is."

" . . . nothing. I just . . . Don't antagonize them." 

"Me? Antagonize? Babe, its--"

"I'm not visiting the hospital."

"But imagine how intense the sex would be." Claire coughed sharply, having inhaled her water at that and swatted at Owen. He looked pleased though. 

"Stop! We're in company . . . " Her eyes widened and then her face flushed red as she continued. "Who have been here the entire time . . . Oh . . . oh . . . " She covered her face. "I'm sorry. No really. I am."

"I'm not." 

"Owen!"

"Claire~" She glared at him. "Ooooh, feisty." 

Hound threw his head back and laughed, moving closer before settling down at the end of the table. "Lissen. We're louder. An' we're often worse, because we know each other for millennia, eons. We actively compete against each other, _and_ we rate others. We're a little bit of an exhibitionist's and voyeur's dream, contrasted by several folks who are prudishly private. Both are good."

Soundwave nodded, continuing the conversation. "And it would be unwise to needle our people on loss. We are verging on an extinction-level of population. All of us have experienced severe loss."

Hound smiled sadly, "Soundwave's speech patterns even show that level of loss. He's one of a few individuals left of his frametype and Spark inclination towards what translates into 'Carrier,' where he can support several symbiotic Sparks. My type had been far more common before our wars. And I had skills that kept me from the front lines. But this guy? His native mode of speech is beautifully formal and eloquent, using as few words as possible. To better communicate with the rest of our population as well as humanity, he's changed how he speaks. But I know that once Sparklings with Carrier traits and CNA show up, he'll be completely in his element to help keep his culture alive."

"Hey~" Owen said, hands coming up in a calming manner. "I won't _actively_ go out of my way to needle them. I'm not that bad." He didn't look at Claire who was trying not to smile. He stabbed at a bit of steak. "So . . . you're a dwindling species . . . Something happen to your homeworld? I don't imagine you'd still be here if you could just hop on back." It was an open comment, not a question he was expecting an answer to. 

Claire looked to Soundwave, expression thoughtful as if she wanted to ask what Hound meant but didn't want to be rude. Not like Owen however. "Prowl and Jazz have a kid," she started and made a gesture to Soundwave. "Did . . .?"

"Babe, I think that's borderline reproductive talk. Jazz said that was for their doc to narrate."

"Asking if someone _has_ children is not the same as asking how the child came to be," she said, looking at him. 

"So when are we going to have them?"

"I don't like kids." From her tone, it was obvious they'd had this discussion before.

"You like Zach and Gray."

"They're family! Besides, my sister would kill me if anything happened to them and I do like her."

"Moot point. They're great kids. Smart. But they look good too and I've seen their parents. Means we don't have to worry."

"They could look like you." She said innocently, taking a bit of food.

"Ouch . . . you're mean."

"And this conversation is over-"

"But-"

"-not to be brought up until I start it with 'Owen, let's talk about babies'." 

"Fine. Fiiiiiine. Don't know why you're whining, you like the process-" he caught her hand that she'd tried to swat him with and kissed it. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm done. Promise. We'll just talk about the aliens and hopefully I still get to sleep in my own bed tonight."

"We'll see." And she smiled at the small whine. "So, Soundwave was it? Do you have any kids?"

"Negative. Perhaps I should say: not yet. I do not have any prospective partners." He tipped his head towards the pair with a smile. "I have symbionts, many of whom were gravely injured during the war. They are finishing rehabilitation on Mars and will be returning soon. The only one I have with me is Lazerbeak. They are not like human children. You could equate them with immature adults who enjoy fart jokes." The tone was amused, relaxed.

Hound realized how much stress the mech must have been under while serving Megatron at NEST. To see him smiling and moving with ease and grace . . . the island was good for him. He shifted on his aft to draw their attention and forestall the question. "I don't have an exclusive partner, nor do I have plans yet to procreate. But that'll happen later. I have mentored many, but never felt the need to have any of my own."

"Hound: elaborate."

The mech grinned and shrugged. "Well, hm. How about this: historically, we don't give birth, but rather adopt all our kids, who, technically, are reincarnations."

"Reincarnations?" Claire asked and her eyebrows furrowed. "Is that a religious perspective or . . . ?" 

"Symbionts . . . That makes it sound parasitic," Owen pointed out and grunted when a slim elbow met his side. "I'm filing for abuse."

"Don't be rude."

"How's that rude? He . . . are you even a he?- Soundwave said it, I get to ask for clarification. You know, sometimes you don't get that luxury. Sometimes you just have to formulate based on observation and that's incorrect. Case in point, this." Owen defended himself with a scowl but Claire had a knowing smile teasing to show. "I get to ask . . . I think I'm entitled."

"Oh, he's entitled now." She side-commented with an eye-roll.

"So-,” Owen continued and paused, giving Claire a searching look. “What?" 

"What?" The expression was too coy for his liking so he kissed her on the mouth.

"You're perfect. Never change."

Hound chuckled, and Soundwave smiled. They liked their humans, with all their quirks. Soundwave lifted his armor at his side, letting Lazerbeak out to perch upon his shoulder. "Symbionts: term is a loose translation. English and Cybertronix, our language, are almost incompatible. They are independant Sparks, but need the systems of a larger mech, a Carrier," Soundwave touched his chest, "who will have the coding, Spark-type, and frame to provide for their needs. It is a symbiosis. I am a communications specialist. My symbionts are information-gatherers, spies, mechs with inclinations towards construction of communication arrays."

He put his hand up to his shoulder, and the goosenecked creature chittered before nodding his head to the humans, voice laden with sibilants. "I am Lazerbeak; aerial reconnaissance and subterfuge." He got a purely mental nudge and acquiesced to his Carrier. "I am reminded to inform you that I am no longer special-ops. And that it is a pleasure to meet you both. Coding . . . can be hard to rewrite after eons of war. I ask for your patience . . . and forgiveness if I fail either of you."

Hound smiled and chirruped at the creature, imitating an older animech of his frame type reassuring a fledgeling. He took the mental baton, not minding Soundwave's ability to read minds. "Reincarnation . . . is a tricky thing. Each Spark has a unique signature. Each signature is recorded in a databank and compared against signatures of the past. There are only thirteen Sparks that have never cycled back through the AllSpark, the connection between our afterlife and the physical plane. The Priests of Primus, our name for the Creator, have tracked the patterns. There were often those who would spend their lives dedicated to formulating theories and webs that followed the connections and the paths that each Spark took." He smiled and gestured towards the northeast direction. "Our leaders, Optimus Prime and Lord Protector Megatron, have always been powerful Sparks with very few cycles. Their Spark signatures date back to the beginning of our records. Optimus' Spark is the first child of Vector Prime, the keeper of Time itself. Megatron's Spark originated with Solus Prime, the forge master and creator of the Thirteen Primes' weapons. They have always either been brothers, lovers, or enemies. Apathy is a concept foreign to their Sparks."

"See, knew flight was possible. That's pretty wicked though. I bet you can get a lot of places without being noticed," Owen said and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was addressing Lazerbeak. "You'd be pretty useful for the restricted area navigation and mapping. A bird's-eye view from something stealthy instead of a noisy chopper that would spook the inhabitants." 

"That sounds pretty complicated." Claire admitted and shook her head. "But considering we as humans can't even decide which religion is correct."

"There's a God babe, we just use different names," Owen stated matter of factly before finishing what was left of his meal. Claire pushed hers towards him without comment. 

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. Buuuut it doesn't really matter so long as you know what you believe in to be true," Owen replied with a half shrug and glared at a piece of broccoli like it'd offended him. "That's why religion is one of those no-go topics. That and politics."

"Good to know."

"Babe, I'm going to have to educate you. Not everything is numbers and profit percentage."

Hound laughed at their byplay. "Religion aside! The reason why we can't return to Cybertron is that it doesn't have a sun right now, and is a virtually dead world until we can move it to a place where we can bring life to it. That could take several thousand Earth years, but it could also take as few as two. The scientists are all working on a solution while settled on Mars."

Lazerbeak snickered. "Because _some_ mechs like to make things as explosive as possible."

"Keep in mind that Wheeljack has primarily been making weapons and experimenting with various forms of Energon and the creation process. He _used_ to be one of the elite upgrade artists before the war, and he and Ratchet are the only two who can do any form of work on my Bondmate's frame."

Turning his beak up, the bird lifted off to stretch his wings. He dodged around tree trunks and around bushes, chasing prey only he could find. Hound looked up to Soundwave. _:Did I offend your buddy?:_

_:Not intentionally. He has wanted an upgrade for vorns. He feels vulnerable after our final battles.:_

_:Is it a psychology issue that requires Rung?:_ The scout mentioned one of the more famous neutral psychologist and psychiatrists that was settling in on Mars, working with many of the healing Cybertronians.

_:Possibly, but he is resistant to telling anyone outside of the cadre about his problem.:_

_:Gotcha. Maybe helping Owen, independent of your presence, will help.:_

_:It is a thought.:_ Returning to the couple, he didn't turn away from them as he commanded, "Prime, Lord Protectorate, that was only one lap. Please continue."

Grumbling, Jazz stomped across the sandy beach and back through the trees. Prowl followed, seemingly more at peace than before. 

Owen's eyes tracked Lazerbeak's flight pattern until he couldn't see him before looking to Soundwave. "Something wrong?" He seemed concerned and Claire rested a hand on his as she watched Jazz and Prowl. 

Soundwave sighed, air gusting out of his vents. "We have been at war for millennia upon millennia. The conflict may be ended with a pact, with a truce, with the chance to rebuild all that we have destroyed, but . . . it is hard for my little flier to change his thinking. He is a creature of absolutes, like Prowl. They need time to process and change coding one glyph at a time. Jazz and Ravage, my felinoid symbiont recovering on Mars, are able to recode their responses and thinking at a very swift pace."

"Thousands of years . . . You guys live for that long of a time?" Claire asked, eyes going to Hound. "I get it that you're . . . machine in nature . . . so . . . Is it a . . . ?" She seemed to be struggling with what she wanted to ask. Owen slipped in to finish it best he could. 

"Machines are a series of parts. So, could you essentially live forever without conflict if you had a supply of parts?"

"If a Spark, our life force, is strong enough, yes. But Sparks do also have a decay rate and even if the body is still fresh or maintained properly, the life can end. Our Sparks are who we are, our memories, our thoughts, our souls. They are what give us our talents and gifts." His face lifted back into a smile and he shrugged his circa-1990s tan shoulders. "We just have to learn to identify them and utilize them."

" . . . oh," Claire said, her expression clear that part of that troubled her. Owen's hand found her back, comforting circles even though he didn't look at her. He was looking at the treeline with a neutral expression, one that said he was giving something very serious thought but wouldn't commentate. Definitely about Lazerbeak. 

"So . . . You guys can _see_ your sparks? Just going off context here but that sounds very disturbing . . . Humans can't see their souls," Owen continued, taking the conversation in a different direction. He'd talk with Soundwave privately about Lazerbeak at a future time. "If we die, we're dead . . . So, how is Jazz still here?"

"Owen!" Claire sounded horrified. "You can't - That's not- Why?"

"Because I'm a curious son of a bitch who doesn't know tact."

Soundwave raised the equivalent of an eyebrow. "I do not know; I didn't find it relevant to inquire about the process of how, only that the 'why' is because he _is_ needed here. Hound?"

"I don't know, either. It's honestly a bit of a miracle to us, too. Did you want us to ask the mech who should know?" Neither mech seemed offended in the least by their questions. They were enjoying the conversation, much as if they would enjoy the inquiries of Sparklings.

"No." Claire said as Owen replied with a "yes." They turned to stare at each other silently before Claire sighed and looked away. Owen smirked, having won the silent encounter. 

"Yes. Whatever you're allowed to tell us, Tell us." He stated and then leaned against Claire. "Babe . . . babe . . . baaaaaaabe~"

She glanced back at him, unamused. 

"They'd let us know if something we asked or said was off limits. And secretly you want to know as well," he pointed out, still grinning. "We need to work on your relaxation skills. Just shoot the breeze for a bit. I'd suggest a beer but you aren't going to like it. You didn't even finish that glass of wine in your apartment." 

". . . we were busy." One of her eyebrows rose almost challenging and suddenly Owen's posture was hungry. 

"Oh, we were weren't we." The low grumble of his voice sent a shiver down Claire's spine but she kept professional because there _were two_ individuals right there. 

"Owen, stop or you're staying outside." She said but it was a weak protest and she was embarrassed now. 

"Hmmm . . . under the stars, that's a romantic notion," he continued, fingers deftly crossing her back in a very sensual manner. One that made her knees weak. 

"They're right there." 

"Yep. And they've witnessed worse." 

Her face was darker in color. "Not right now . . . okay . . . You pick the worst moments."

"The worst that could happen is Jazz asking if he could join in. Kinky bastard," Hound said with a chuckle. He bowed to Soundwave. "If you would be so kind as to inquire command to see if Optimus Prime is available to answer a few questions? He was there, if rumor proves to be true."

Soundwave nodded, projecting a nanite-based screen and paging Command. A sleepy soldier with an Air Force uniform answered and immediately sat up straighter. "Soundwave! Sir, is there an emergency?"

"Negative. Query: Is Optimus Prime online?"

"Yessir. He just finished a talk with Director Mearing and is about to retire for the evening."

"Please connect him."

"Right away, sir."

The screen went blank before the tired face of the Prime showed. "Soundwave, good evening. I just received your databurst and . . . ah, thank you for adjusting the view. Good evening, Claire and Owen. How are you both?"

"Dude, you could have waited until after he got sleep to answer us," Owen protested and Claire looked mildly impressed by the display. 

"Ah . . . We're good . . ." Claire replied, keeping her tone business-like. Hopefully her face wasn't as flushed as it had been a few moments prior.

"So you're the one with all the answers." It was a statement but Owen had a knowing smile on his face. He was seeing things that were absolutely exciting and he wanted nothing more than to just grill them all individually about everything until they couldn't tell him more. 

Optimus smiled and an off-screen voice started laughing. "All the answers? Oh my, I've caught me a data clerk _and_ he's the Prime! Mmm."

"Elita, not now, love," he purred, chuckling. "Owen, I did get some rest earlier today."

"He always looks tired, the old mech."

"Megatron, _do you mind_? To borrow a term from the humans: Piss. _Off._ "

The laughter distanced itself, and the Prime sighed, smiling. "My family loves to remind me that I am mortal. As for the matter of Jazz, my Lieutenant and one of my closest friends . . . I mourned his loss like I mourned no other. We had an artifact called the AllSpark, which is how Sparks, souls, were transferred from one plane of existence to another. It was destroyed in a battle, leaving us with a Shard that could transfer one final Spark before needing to recharge. And we . . . I . . . petitioned Jazz to return. He was needed, and felt needed. He knew he had unfinished business. And he wanted to return. It sounds very simple, but the process was draining, and he has taken years to recover. He's almost back to where he had been before the battle in Mission City."

Hound leaned back to rest on his back, staring up at the darkening skies. It was good to be open with his humans around.

"Petitioned? Sounds like you played God," Owen stated but the undertone was very clear about what he thought about those who chose to play God. Take InGen for example. Claire gave a small hum of understanding but otherwise was silent, allowing Owen to be their voice. 

An artifact with the power to bring one of their kind back from the dead . . . that was the most simplified explanation and it still gave her the chills. Also their life-expectancy. Humans lived such fragile lives compared to them. She knitted her fingers with Owen's and rested her chin against his shoulder, offering silent comfort and support. 

"In my experience, playing as God hasn't ever worked out well . . . Jazz seems cool, I'll give you that. But still . . . Seems like you got lucky."

Optimus gave this serious thought from several angles before inclining his helm. "Not only can I see your point, but I can completely understand why you feel that way. And to some, they would claim that as a way to discredit me. However, I wasn't part of the decision; I never made the decision to bring him back. I was part of the decision to bring the petition of his return to Primus and the Primes Past, those who have led our people and reside with Primus. We would have continued on with our lives even if he chose not to return. And it was his choice. He returned with purpose, with all of his faculties intact. He is not the only one who has been revived from total death throughout the course of our history. He is, however, one of the very few who have returned and remained sane."

"Like _you_ , for example," Prowl murmured, melting from the treeline, Jazz at his side. Both seemed to be much more at peace and settled with one another. "You have also been returned to us, Optimus. That's two contemporary Cybertronian Primes who have seen the heavens and decided not to remain there for long."

Jazz spoke up for himself. "Owen, while we have atheists, we do have a very active supernatural quality to our lives. And there are records and recent events where those who have played Primus, played God, have been personally handled by our deity. There's compelling public video records."

Claire visibly started the second Prowl spoke, having not realized they'd returned. How could something that large move so silently? Owen gently squeezed her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. 

"Hey man, welcome back to the informal meeting. You two kiss and make up? Switch any other fluids?" He didn't know their biology well enough to joke so he settled for that. 

"Owen, shut up."

"Babe, make up sex is like . . . more awesome than just sex. It's all about connection. They needed it, wouldn't surprise me," Owen said and winked towards Jazz, showing he was just teasing and meant nothing bad. Then he switched back to addressing Optimus and Prowl's comment. "Besides . . . with how crazy things got here...I can imagine not wanting to be gone long in your position."

"There's a great spot on the northern rim of this lake, if you want some good outdoor sex this time of night with few bugs to bother you," Prowl said, causing Jazz to wriggle pseudo-sexily and grin.

But the act was dropped as he settled cross-legged at the edge of their deck. "Yeah. I . . . I can only speak f'r myself. I got myself facin' Primus and sassed off at him about 'was it really my turn' an' that 'that was a dumb fraggin' death' an' so on. He finds my irreverence to be delightful. Op?"

"I had a bondmate and duties that I hadn't completed. I wanted so badly to protect one of our Primes, before he was chosen, from pain and swift death. He very quickly did for me what I couldn't have done for him. We do not ask or order someone to return. They will find their way back to the fold if the need is strong enough. We are simply the conduits."

"AllSpark Prime himself is the conduit, ta be precise. Not myself an' Optimus or the other ten Primes."

Claire's face was a mixture of disbelief and acceptance. Definitely comical. Owen smirked at the behavior and noted it for later. He was definitely noticing things the more he watched them. 

"So~ You faced down your God . . . and sassed him," Owen stated in what sounded like slight awe. "And he just _decided_ to let you come back . . ." He paused, posture neutral and giving nothing away about what he was really thinking. Then he smiled and it was relaxed. "Well, aren't we lucky?" He was back to teasing, obviously marking Jazz as a friend now. 

Claire kept her head tucked against Owen but she was frowning now. She couldn't say it was unnatural . . . What did her park do if not bring back the dead? But for Jazz to still be . . . Jazz. There were too many un- deciding factors. She stared at the condensation on her forgotten soft drink and kept quiet. She could accept alien life. What threw her for a loop was that both she and Owen got to find out . . . together. They'd stopped the Indominus and it was like the universe was trying to reward them with more instability. 

But she had Owen. He would help. This wasn't something she even had to fully accept tonight. Her eyes drifted to Prowl, then to Jazz, then to the projection, Soundwave and lastly Hound. Yeah. She could work this out. Just ignore the creep factor. 

Owen's hand jostled hers and she looked to him. There was nothing but love for her in there. He understood. 

Jazz smiled and stood, Prowl resting his hand on his lover's shoulder. "We'll let you adjust. If you need either of us, the number you have in your phones for our cell numbers will get in contact with us just the same." He let Jazz guide him back towards the spot they had discovered.

"I have recharging to catch up on. If you have any questions at all, my personal number and email is available to you." Optimus bowed out of the conversation, leaving Hound and Soundwave with their humans.

Hound smiled and stood. "Would you like us to give you two some privacy?"

Owen looked to Claire for the answer. 

". . . No, you're already here. You've been here. Might as well continue," Claire stated and Owen nodded, agreeing. "Unless you have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

"Alright, well we'll adjust . . ." Owen said getting up and scooping Claire up. She squeaked in surprise, latching arms around his neck and then glared at him. "What~ Couldn't resist."

"I am perfectly capable of walking."

"Mmm . . . maybe I just like how you feel in my arms. Well, we'll be off . . . Hound, Soundwave. We're discussing the Restricted Area tomorrow. I think the girls would like to go back out . . ." His look was knowing. 

Hound grinned and began circling a nicely-curved hollow in the hillside. He settling himself down and sighed in bliss. "Sure thing. I'll be powering down for a while. Been a while since I recharged like a civilized being." No sooner had he said that, and he was out for the count.

The former Decepticon communications specialist shook his head and had Lazerbeak begin a perimeter sweep. "I will keep guard until Hound wakes for second shift." Even though he would hear everything, he made sure to step away from the cottage to give some semblance of privacy. It was a relief to be known about.

He just hoped that Claire would continue to be as forgiving in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> If anything in this fic confused you, we based the Cybertronians off of SineadRivka's fanfic _Things We Don't Tell Humans._ If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask us!


End file.
